


i got this anxious feeling (but it goes away for a minute when i'm with you breathing)

by thedreamsteam



Series: the dream team fics [37]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27556783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedreamsteam/pseuds/thedreamsteam
Summary: The whole thing started like this: Sap slapped Dream, once, when Dream had forgotten to grab the apples. They had all stopped, staring at him, the burn mark on his face. It was in the shape of a hand, Sap’s hand. They had all stared, wide-eyed, as the mark turned red and as the tears dripped down Dream’s face.or, how it starts, and how it ends (for now)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot
Series: the dream team fics [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913893
Comments: 6
Kudos: 351





	i got this anxious feeling (but it goes away for a minute when i'm with you breathing)

**Author's Note:**

> dfh HI
> 
> finally updating this series after years,,,,,, hello it feels good to be back
> 
> literally we're ignoring whats happened on the server i make my own canon now (however,,, might introduce jschlatt into this)
> 
> this si DEF not the end ive had a fifth fic that i need to work on still but like,,, hello
> 
> anyways dedicted to ash bc. hi :)
> 
> title is from cry baby by the neighborhood!!!

The whole thing started like this: Sap slapped Dream, once, when Dream had forgotten to grab the apples. They had all stopped, staring at him, the burn mark on his face. It was in the shape of a hand, Sap’s hand. They had all stared, wide-eyed, as the mark turned red and as the tears dripped down Dream’s face.

Sap had whispered apologies in Dream’s ear as George put the cream on his face and gave him a healing potion, and they had thought that was enough. They had thought it would never happen again. (Or was Dream the only one who had thought that?)

But it happened, just the next week. George was the person this time, the one who punched him as a change, and he can’t remember whether they just left him on the floor or picked him up, but the pain in his heart was the same no matter what. And it happened again, and again, until it was a pattern that he remembered no matter what, a pattern that made him cry when it’s night and act like it’s normal during the day.

He got used to it quickly, way too quickly for his liking, and in this time, he learned how to heal himself and stitched himself up much better. He learned how to talk out of one side of his mouth, and learned how to write with his left hand. He learned how to walk without wincing and learned how to smile without making it look fake, and learned the punishments that happen when you don’t.

They came easier to do, up until the war had started. He was forced to act as their leader, going against his best friend, the one he had had since childhood. He was forced to stare Wilbur dead in the eyes and tell him that he hopes he sees him dead in the battlefield, forced to tell him that he hopes he’s the one who strikes the final blow. Sap had cackled next to him, George laughing alongside him, but he couldn’t feel anything as Wilbur’s mouth opened wide and nothing came out.

Tommy had nearly exploded, but Wilbur’s hand on his shoulder stopped him, leaving him to just glare at Dream and if looks could kill, he’d be dead, and he’s never wished for that more than in that moment. He tried to hold himself tall and act like he was confident, but behind his mask he could feel the fear that was on his face.

When the two leaders departed, leaving their meeting place, Dream’s shoulders slumped as he followed behind Sap and George, the two already planning an attack. He couldn’t see the face following him as he walked, couldn’t see the young boy following his every move.

Tubbo ran back to Wilbur, voice speaking a mile a minute, only slowing down once Wilbur asked him to, voice soft, asking him to repeat what he’d just said. And Tubbo had paused for a moment, eyes looking down at the ground, until he finally spoke again, voice quiet.

“I don’t know if he’s okay.” He said, and he meant it in a _I think he’s being hurt by them_ way, but Wilbur took another way, and he didn’t get a chance to correct him before someone was running in, telling them a building was on fire, and Wilbur had to run out, leaving the two boys in the grass, inside the walls.

“What did you mean by that, Tubbo?” Tommy asked, and Tubbo told him everything he meant, told him everything he remembered, and the two boys nodded and talked until Wilbur returned, leading them to their dinner. They ate quickly, leaving the table as soon as they could, talking into the night until they fell asleep on Tommy’s bed, waking up in the morning with a blanket covering them.

They didn’t talk about it again until they went to the river to gather water for their little base, laughing and joking among each other until they noticed the masked man sitting along the side of the bank, leaning against a tree. They quieted, glancing at each other, wondering what to do, until Dream called out to them, apologizing.

“No, no, it’s okay! We just didn’t want to wake you up.” Tubbo lies, glancing at Tommy, and the boy fervently nods.

“We were just worried about disturbing your great nap, that’s all!” He says, and Dream smiles, shaking his head.

“It’s fine, okay? I need to head back anyways, so good luck.” He disappears into the forest, and the two of them shrug before gathering the water, deciding silently to keep this meeting a secret from Wilbur. If they told him, one of them would slip up and accidentally mention the marks along his clothes, anyways.

They also decide to keep it secret that every single time they go to the river after that, Dream is always there, either asleep against a tree or hunting for fish in the cool water. They never mention the war when they talk to him, always talking about how the sky looks or how sunny it had been the last few days. They never mention the marks on his clothes or the wounds on his body, even when nobody had fought in the last few weeks. They just mention something they had done the previous week or ask about what he’s been reading, spiraling into a different conversation.

They never mention this to Wilbur, feeling it not important. So they keep this little secret, at first for only a few days, which then turn into weeks, which then turn into months, until that ole faithful day where everything went to shit. Where Dream joined their side, leaving whatever the fuck Sap and George had been doing.

Is it bad to say Tommy’s a little bit pleased that Dream joined them? Is it bad to say he’s happy that Dream left the others? He doesn’t know.

He voices this to Wilbur the next night, when they’re sitting on the couch, and Wilbur pulls him close, sighing.

“Did I ever tell you that me and Dream are childhood best friends?” Is Wilbur’s response, eyes trained on the wall when Tommy turns to look at him, mouth already gasping.

“What?” He exclaims, waiting for the man to continue.

“Guess I didn’t.” He mutters to himself, before continuing on, ignoring the pain in his heart. “We’ve known each other since we were about 7 and 8, because his family moved to my village and my parents wanted me to have a friend, so they set it up for us to go play with each other, and then we became inseparable. We played together, we read together, we hunted together, we did everything together. We stayed with each other when we became sick, helping the other with anything that they needed. He was usually the sick one, the one always getting hurt. He got used to my voice pretty quick, once we were allowed to explore outside, because he accidentally hurt himself many times, and we got used to how his bedroom looked pretty quickly as well.”

“Was he nice?” Tommy asks, when Wilbur stops for a moment, a soft smile on his face.

“The nicest fucking person I ever knew.” He says, nearly fiercely. “He was the one that always did everything he could for everyone in the village, and he nearly always did it without any payment. The only time he wanted payment was whenever I asked him to get me food and he took a little bit as tax, he said.”

“How old is he?” Tommy asks quietly, wanting to know more, but not wanting to ask too many questions. Wilbur doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“Only a few years older than you.” He says, and Tommy’s eyes widen.

“He’s not older than you?” He asks, and Wilbur shakes his head. “He’s younger?”

“By a year.” He says, Tommy continuing to ask questions about Dream. They talk into the night, until Tommy eventually falls asleep on Wilbur’s shoulder, tired from the events of the previous days. Wilbur can’t even blame him.

He’s careful to get up, gently laying Tommy down on the couch, quietly slipping away to grab a blanket and put it over the sleeping boy before walking over to his bed. He’s tired as well, and although he doesn’t know if it’s because of the time of night or because of everything that’s happened, he’s not a man to refuse some sleep.

However, as he lies there, he finds that sleep won’t come to him as easily as it usually does. The events of the day play on a loop in his mind, the warmth of Dream’s hands stuck in his own. He hadn’t left the boys side the entire day, nearly, the younger wanting him to stay with him. He’d been trying to hate Dream, ever since that meeting in the grass, but even he admits he slipped back into their friendship easier than he should’ve.

The day plays on a loop, and he finds himself slowly falling asleep, the warmth in his hands soothing him more than ever, and when he wakes up, his hands are cold, body warmer than ever.

-

It had all started like this: Sapnap requested a meeting, one to discuss a trade. He accepted this easily, thinking it would be over food or some help with building, but Sap would give him information in exchange for Wilbur letting him talk to Dream for a moment. He was hesitant, especially when Dream nearly cried, begging him to disagree, but the way Tommy’s eyes widened when he told him what Sap had said, the way Tubbo shook his head when he spoke, the way that Fundy’s hands curled into fists when he repeated what Sap had said gave him an answer.

He sent a simple note, signed with his name, and waited. It wasn't long before another note arrived, Sap requesting a meeting yet again, this time taking out the part about a small meeting with Dream and instead filling it with a request to talk about trading some crops. He accepted it easily, leaving Dream with Tubbo as he and Tommy walked across the bridge, and the meeting went fast enough.

When he returned, though, Dream’s mask was off, and his eyes were red and puffy as he cried into Tubbo’s shoulder, the younger rubbing circles into Dream’s back. A letter was on the ground, and Tommy picked it up as Wilbur sat beside the boys, his heart breaking as he saw Dream’s hand shaking.

“Oh, Dream.” Tommy says sadly as he walks over, hugging the blonde. He hands the letter to Wilbur silently, and Wilbur nearly says the same thing once he finishes reading, throwing the paper to the side of the room to join the hug. “It’ll be okay, soon.”

No one else speaks for the rest of the time, all quiet, until Dream falls asleep, the crying tiring him out. They move him gently, putting a blanket around him and resting his head on a pillow as they talk quietly on the other side.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Tommy asks quietly, and Wilbur rubs an eye with a hand, eyes sad.

“I have no clue.” He glances over at the blonde, making sure he was still asleep before continuing. “He was really close to them, and I have no clue how he’ll even react. Not to mention, he can’t really distract himself with anything right now, with his broken wrists.”

“I’ll help.” Tubbo interrupts, before Wilbur can continue. “I can get him to come with me to the farm, and he can help me remember shit.”

“And I can do something as well, although I don’t know what.” Tommy tells him, and they both look so hopeful, trying to help, that Wilbur can’t help but smile at them. 

“Of course.” He ruffles their hair and pulls them close, hugging them. “We just need to help him, alright?” They nod, and soon enough they’ve left to go ask the others about things that they could distract Dream with, leaving Wilbur alone with a sleeping Dream.

He sighs, moving to the floor in front of the couch, sitting down softly. His hands reach up to Dream’s hair, smoothing a piece down, out of the sleeping man’s face. His face looks soft when he’s asleep, and Wilbur can’t help but wonder what went wrong between them as he swipes another piece of hair out of Dream’s face.

Dream shifts on the couch, unconsciously moving further into Wilbur’s touch. He smiles at that, settling down further, resting his body more firmly against the couch. He never moves his hand away from Dream’s hair, keeping it solidly against the blonde strands. He stays there, even as he falls asleep, and Tommy and Tubbo keep this secret to themselves, smiling as they bring another blanket to wrap around Wilbur this time, sitting quietly on the other side of the room until they fall asleep as well, the day turning into night.

-

It started like this: Wilbur held Dream in his lap as the younger cried, hands holding the others as the tears fell down his face, the blood in his side hidden in the darkness, the sounds of pain hidden by the rain. The lamp sat beside them, only show their faces, and Dream desperately hopes Wilbur won’t find out, desperately hopes he won’t find the mark, but Wilbur decides to move his hand that moment, to adjust his position, and Dream can tell he feels the slickness of his side, can tell he feels the blood, because Wilbur pulls away.

“What?” He hears Wilbur mutter, and he watches Wilbur hold his hand up to the lamp light and see the red slicked across his palm. “Dream-” Wilbur said, looking up at the blonde, only noticing his pale skin in that moment, previously marking it up to the rain. The blonde smiled at him, his smile weak, and Wilbur felt his hand grasp him weakly, the strength leaving him. “You aren’t going to die, okay?”

Dream shakes his head, but Wilbur refuses to accept the answer, even though he knows Dream has to die eventually, has to wake up in his bed soon enough.

“I need to.” Dream whispers, as Wilbur settles him against the ground, lying him down softly. “I’ll see you soon enough.”

“It’s just… I haven’t seen you die yet.” He finally says, and Dream grabs his hand, his grip already weakened.

“It’s okay.” He tells him, and Wilbur laughs at that, because of course the one who’s dying is comforting the one who isn’t. “I’ll see you at base, alright?” He says, and Wilbur nods, holding his hand back just as tightly.

“And I’ll have all your stuff.” He replies softly, watching as Dream’s eyes shut and as his hand drops, disappearing slowly, and then all at once.

-

It starts like this, and ends just the same: two bodies curled around each other, one crying, the other not, hands held tightly in the others grasp. 

**Author's Note:**

> im @jschllatt on tumblr i changed my user lol


End file.
